


i know you hear your friends when they say you should

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, stupids in love trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse is sick of Segs moping over Brownie, so he does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know you hear your friends when they say you should

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly set during the time Boston had off before they started the Eastern Conference Finals, while the West went to Game 7s. A little bit of tweaking was done to actual pre-playoff/summer plans.
> 
> I can't find it now, but this started and finished when I saw that creeper pic on Tumblr of the boys eating lunch in a diner.

Jesse might be a hockey player, and he might be young and he might be a lot of things, but he’s not dumb. He _isn’t_. People write off athletes as being dumbasses who play sports because they have nothing better to do, no deeper levels. He’s used to getting it from everywhere his whole life, and it used to make him mad. Because really, who the fuck wouldn’t hulk out at everyone thinking you’re too stupid to succeed at a “normal” career? His mom worked hard at him, at helping him learn how to deal with the assholes in the world, and he says a prayer every day that he got to learn from her while she was alive, being kickass and making the best PB &J. 

Shit still gets real sometimes, and it fucking hurts, but his boys are his support network and he’s so thankful they’re there. In particular Segs; they go way back. You can’t fake that kind of chemistry, and they love each other. 

The reason behind his theories on public opinion regarding athletes is because, well. He’d always thought Segs was maybe a little... that he _walked the line_ , so to speak, and when Brownie came on the scene it was pretty much confirmed. Segs was, and still is, so ridiculously _into_ that dude that he has absolutely zero idea how Brownie hasn’t noticed, and if Brownie has noticed, why he hasn’t done anything about it. 

So, out of all of them he’s the least dumb because he _has_ noticed, and sort of has a plan. It’s a shitty plan, but whatever. 

When Brownie gets together with Julie, Segs slumps but throws himself into hockey and growing an epic playoff beard, and Freddy texts Jesse every couple of nights to tell him some new way Segs is making him feel depressed about life with how much he’s pining for Brownie. 

**Freddy:  
21.04**

_Seriously we went 2 Whole Foods n he stood in the veg isle for like, 10 minutes.. and i was like wtf man?? N he goes “brownie hates red potatoes.” Like it was fucking relevant or some shit_

**Blacker:  
21.04**

_What did u do?_

**Freddy:  
21.05**

_I told him we didnt have 2 get em if he didnt want 2. We didnt. Red pots r kind of gross anyway so brownie knows his stuff_

**Blacker:  
21.08**

_He hasnt texted segs in like 2wks. He texted u?_

**Freddy:  
21.09**

_Last txt i got was him sayin he wasnt hanging at all dis summr. i think he in yyg?? His girl is from there, idk. he told em @ livys partt but i was hammered._

And on it goes. 

 

*

 

When they get booted out the playoffs in the second round, Jesse goes home for a while and kicks it. All their friends are descending on Toronto for a couple of days of raging before scattering to do their own thing over the summer, and he thinks about meeting up for some parties. 

Brownie hurt his shoulder a while before the season ended, but Jesse’s pretty sure he’s somewhere in Canada now. He’s better at answering texts now the whole honeymoon period’s worn off, and Jesse almost fell out his car the other week when Brownie texted randomly about his early injury and holidays. 

(He hasn’t told Segs because why invite misery, right?)

 

So, when he heads down to Boston to stay with Segs while they’re clinging on in the playoffs, Freddy in the big house making stupid videos in his boxers with Marshall, Jesse isn’t surprised that Segs is kind of distracted and more than a little miserable. Still. 

“Dude, _seriously_?” he whispers at Freddy when Segs wanders past them into the kitchen one evening, wearing an old Plymouth hoodie with 12 stamped on the chest. _Brownie’s_ 12.

Freddy just shrugs and shovels some more pizza in his mouth.

“What’s with the hoodie, bud? Can’t find your own?” he asks, not really wanting to know the answer, and Segs just shrugs and emerges with a protein shake.

“Pretty sure Brownie took mine ‘cos all I can find are these,” he says and sits down on the sectional next to Jesse.

“Have you heard from him?” Jesse asks, aiming for light and missing by a mile. Freddy snorts next to him. 

“Mmm, a little. He’s in Wasaga with his family, but he was in Brampton for a couple of days for a guy’s wedding that he used to play with in midget or something. Mom made him stay with her. Apparently he didn’t take Julie,” Segs says, and Freddy rolls his eyes.

“You _know_ he didn’t; why even bother with ‘apparently’? It was a small thing and they only invited couples who’d been together longer than two years. The chick was a huge Bridezilla, Brownie was telling me. He said he was gonna just get a hotel or crash with some of his bros in an apartment but Segs’ mom _somehow_ found out and harassed him until he caved,” Freddy says, jabbing a thumb at Segs, who chuckles. 

“Okay, so I told Mom he was gonna be in Brampton — so what?”

“What, you think if he hears enough stories about how cute you were as a kid, he’ll wanna bang you until he he’s too old to get it up anymore?” Jesse asks, and Segs sets his jaw and pops open his shake lid, staring at the television. Jesse tries not to wince openly as Freddy digs his fingers into his ribs; _nice move, dickhead._

 

*

 

Boston make it to the finals of the Eastern Conference against the Penguins, and Jesse announces they’re going to lunch to celebrate. He figures it’s gonna be deserted enough that they won’t get harassed, even though it’ll be obvious who they are and what they do soon enough.

Segs just grins and throws on his favourite douchey v-neck and snapback and they roll out in the May sunshine, enjoying the feel of it against their skin.

His phone’s been buzzing all morning, and he keeps shooting Segs ridiculous grins, his good mood threatening to drive him mad. He is gonna be the _best_ bro for so long, nobody will ever be able to take the mantle from him.

“Dude, seriously, the fuck is up with you?” Segs grumps as he unwraps his sub and inspects it to make sure no tomatoes are hidden amongst the chicken and salad.

“Nothing, fuckface. I’m just in a good mood. Why are you so bitter? You’re still in the playoffs!” Jesse snaps, and Segs tries to frown but he can’t help it.

“I’m not bitter, fuck you! These subs are awesome.”

“They’d better be, since that’s my favourite filling, asshole.”

Segs drops his sandwich and looks up, his jaw wide. Jesse’s practically vibrating and Freddy’s choking on his drink — as Brownie stands behind the empty chair, looking ridiculously smug. There’s even a _smile_ on his face, and Browndog isn’t known for much else besides looking pissy all the time. Dude is a diva, for sure, and Jesse _really_ doesn’t get why Segs is so into him. 

“Brownie!” Segs exclaims, dumping his food and leaping up, doing a sort of run-hop at Brownie who manages to catch him, busting out a proper laugh on top of it all.

“Seggy baby, missed you!” he exclaims, hands curled under Segs’ thighs, currently locked like a fucking vice around his hips. Brownie rubs his face against Segs’ neck, and Jesse totally knows he just like, _inhaled_ their boy right there, but he’s too happy to even chirp him on it. They just laugh and tell them to keep it PG while they’re in public. 

Jesse even moves to sit next to Freddy because he’s such a good bro, so Brownie and Segs can sit next to each other.

“So, where the fuck’ve you been?” Freddy asks, while Segs asks if Brownie wants half his sub.

“You gonna hand feed him too?” Jesse snorts, and Segs blushes while Brownie rolls his eyes and drapes an arm around the back of Segs’ chair. He doesn’t miss how Segs — fuck, how he comes _alive_ under the attention, attention he and Freddy have tried to give for ages now; wriggling in his chair to be closer to Brownie... well, as close as he can while they’re around people with camera phones and Twitter accounts. 

“If he wants me too,” Segs mumbles and Brownie smirks and looks lazily at the menu.

“I can’t be fucked, man. We’ll share and I’ll buy you some fries for the way home or something,” he says and Segs bites down on his lip. 

Jesse resists the urge to eyeroll so hard he almost pulls something. Segs always reads too much into shit, and Brownie saying ‘home’ is going to make him pop a boner or something. This is going to turn into a third and fourth-wheeling scenario much quicker than Jesse had anticipated — even though for all intensive purposes they’re apparently “straight”.

“So, again. Where the fuck’ve you been?” Freddy asks as Segs is leaning in and divvying up the sandwich. Brownie shifts and looks uncomfortable.

“I was in Jersey but uhm... I left early. Been in Wasaga since.”

Segs is going red, again, and Jesse frowns. Maybe he’s been talking to Brownie more than he thought; he _obviously_ knows something’s gone on.

“Why’d you leave early?” Freddy asks, and Brownie’s discomfort grows.

“Uhm... me and Julie broke up,” he says and Freddy blinks. Jesse feels like — well. He feels like Segs is trying his hardest not to smile, and it’s really fucking obvious and is making Jesse want to punch his lights out. How the fuck could he mope over nothing all the friggin’ time?! And more importantly, why the hell did he work so hard on getting Brownie out here, thinking Segs was on a self-imposed lockdown, when the opposite was happening?

“Oh, shit. Uh... sorry, man. You okay?” Freddy asks, and Brownie hitches a shoulder.

“It sucked for a while, but Seggy was an awesome support — as awesome as he could be while he was busy in the playoffs and shit. Weren’t you, bud?” he asks, and Segs nods and grins, leaning back into Brownie’s arm on his chair.

“Yeah, totally. I’m your best bro, and don’t ever forget it.” he chirps.

Brownie smiles, but it makes Jesse’s stomach clench because that is not the kind of smile you give a bro. That’s the kind of smile you aim at someone you—

His phone buzzes in his pants, interrupting his thoughts, and he pulls it out to see a text from... Freddy? He looks to the side but Fred’s buried in his sub, flicking through his Facebook feed.

**Freddy:  
12.14**

_i think we got playd... segs knew they broke up n didnt say anythin?? Maybe they hooked up?_

**Blacker:  
12.15**

_We wouldv known if Segs didsappeared 2 yyz for a few days._

**Freddy:  
12.17**

_Yah but he went back 2 Brampton for a couple of days after the season ended. Maybe they met up??? Wasagas only a cpl of hours noth._

“Who the fuck are you two texting? Rude assholes,” Brownie says and Jesse looks up from his phone to find him looking amused, Segs finishing off his sub and licking his fingers.

“Nobody — and fuck you, you’re the last person who can talk!” 

“Hey uh, how long are you here for?” Segs asks, kind of quiet as they’re paying their bills and heading towards the car. Jesse can only hear because Freddy’s talking to his mom and the street’s quiet. It’s a nice day and they should all go for a run later and work on their tans. 

“However long you want me to. My summer’s wide open,” Brownie says, and Jesse sneaks a look out the corner of his eye as he pretends to look at something across the street. 

Brownie’s walking close to Segs, and slings an arm around his shoulders and Segs basically — he basically _curls_ into the embrace, and Jesse should be feeling disgusted right now by how sappy that is, but all he can get it together to feel is a kind of warm, gooey pride. 

“Then I want you to stay with me all summer. Okay?” he says, even quieter. 

“Okay. I can do that.”

*

It doesn’t get any less — well, whatever it is — for the rest of the day. They go home and change into their fat pants and play too much Call of Duty and deciding to continue the celebration with pizza and a few beers for dinner.

“Seggy can have some juice, maybe?” Brownie chirps as they pull bottles out the fridge when the beer arrives, laughing as Segs flips him off and goes to pay with the wad of cash in his hand.

“Things good?” Jesse asks as Brownie hangs back a little, and he nods.

“Hey, uh... listen...” he starts, and Jesse raises an eyebrow.

“If it’s anything about you two, it’s already obvious as fuck that something’s happened or is gonna happen, and I don’t care. If I did, I wouldn't have texted you and told you to come. Just don’t hurt him, alright? I don’t wanna have to fight you.” 

Brownie turns so red, it’d be impressive if the conversation wasn’t already awkward as hell.

“Uhm, okay. Thanks for that, by the way. I was gonna, it was just... yeah. What about Freddy?”

“Freddy feels exactly the same, I can pretty much guarantee it.”

 

Dinner is more of the same, except Brownie seems to relax a ton more and pulls Segs mostly into his lap while they watch The Avengers, the surround sound cranking and pissing off the dogs. 

Freddy passes out towards the end, slumped down in his seat and Jesse’s almost there too, his eyes spending more time heavily lidded and restricting his view than they do open. It’s probably the only reason he catches it; because _they_ think they’re both asleep.

Brownie leans forward and puts the beer and boxes on the table and tugs Segs in closer, whispering something in his ear. Segs shoots them a look, and hisses something back at Brownie, who apparently gives no fucks — given how he just cups Segs’ chin, fingers stroking down his gross beard, pulling him in to kiss him far more gently than he deserves.

“Brownie—” Segs’ voice hitches, and Brownie kisses him again and again, his hand moving from Segs’ cheek up to knock his hat off, tangling amongst his curls and tugging a little, his free arm wrapping around Segs’ body, their chests flush. The kiss is turning passionate, and Jesse’s feeling kind of hot under the collar in ways that will most likely get spilled next time they drink — and he kind of wants to avoid a contact boner.

“I _want_ you,” Brownie’s voice carries across the living room, and Segs just lets out a little moan and nods, wrapping his arms around Brownie’s neck and nosing at his jaw until Brownie gives up on his neck and goes back to his mouth.

“You got me. Always,” Segs says and Brownie wrenches himself away and stands up, grabbing for Segs’ hand. They stumble off towards the bedroom, thumping along the walls and he’s pretty sure he hears Segs trip up the stairs — then there’s a slammed door in the distance and Jesse opens his eyes properly again and sits up, cracking his neck. He turns off the movie and puts the empties in the sink, and kicks at Freddy’s ankle to wake him up.

“Where’s Segs and Brownie?” he asks, and Jesse rolls his eyes. Before he can answer and fully elaborate on exactly how fucking stupid Freddy’s got to be, a dull thumping starts up. 

Freddy furrows his brow, and Jesse pinches the bridge of his nose. The thumping gets louder and harder while Freddy’s thinking, the cogs turning much slower than Jesse is willing to deal with. Then, Segs’ moans and swears get louder as well, a chorus of _unh-unh-unhs_ peppered between. Freddy’s jaw drops and he slaps his hands over his ears.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, staggering towards his room. Jesse rubs at Marshall and Bud, clicking his fingers so they follow him to the spare room he’s been in. He figures the boys won’t want the dogs harassing them tonight.

*

The next morning, he stumbles into the kitchen at nine, yawning widely. He fell asleep listening to Lil Wayne on full blast because he loves Segs, and he likes Brownie a _lot,_ but he’s not that much of a creep to try and sleep listening to them fucking.

Apparently the universe decides that almost causing his ears to bleed with _sounds_ isn’t enough, because he walks into the kitchen to see Segs pressed along the fridge while Brownie grinds against him. His sweatpants are pushed down far enough so he can get his dick out against Segs’, and Segs is totally naked, his briefs puddled around an ankle. There’s hickies littering his neck and down his chest from the two second glimpse Jesse gets, before howling and slapping his hands over his eyes, fleeing back to the living room. 

“Jesus, not where I have to _eat!_ C’mon now!” he exclaims, and hears both of them swear and rush to cover themselves. 

Brownie appears first, the blush spreading to his chest — which, okay, wow, is also covered in hickies. He’s got at least six on his neck and looks absolutely gross. 

“You look like a junkie coming off a bender.” Jesse says, and Brownie flips him off. Segs appears in briefs, in a similarly battered shape and utterly _glowing_. It’s disgusting, it really is.

“You two are so nasty,” he sniffs, shoving past them and grabbing the antibacterial spray from underneath the sink to attack the fridge. He doesn’t feel safe touching it right now — and he’s pretty sure those are Segs’ ass prints pressed near the handle.

 

By the time he finishes cleaning and starts cooking, they’ve showered and dressed in tees and sweats, sitting sheepishly at the breakfast counter while Jesse serves up eggs and toast. Freddy drifts out and joins them, and Jesse wonders if he can tell Freddy what happened. 

The air is so awkward and he can barely look at either of them, and Freddy ends up sighing loudly and doing it for him. 

“Did you bust them fucking?” he asks, and Segs chokes on his toast. 

“Yeah,” Jesse says, glad for the break. 

“Dude, we’re _sorry_ — we didn’t think anyone would be up,” Brownie says. 

“Like that excuses fucking in a food preparation area,” Jesse says and Segs laughs.

“Like you even _give_ a shit.”

“Bro, we heard you two banging last night. Pretty sure Segs was taking it, with all the moaning about _harder, Brownie, fuck_ — **harder**.” Freddy has the sounds pretty down, and given how scarlet Segs flushes and how it’s Brownie’s turn to choke on food, he’s re-enacting them perfectly.

“I’m really glad I’m leaving tomorrow,” Jesse says, and Segs winces.

“It’s not— you guys don’t have to go.” he starts, and Jesse waves a hand.

“I’m hanging out with my family for a week and then I’m going to Vegas, and LA for training. You doing Biosteel again?” he asks, and both of them nod. 

Freddy’s got plans for Europe this summer, so it’s just going to be Brownie and Segs and whoever else they pick up on the way. He figures there won’t be anyone else; not this summer, anyway. Maybe not for a few summers. 

“So, it’s not you. It’s... me?” he asks, and they all groan and start throwing bits of toast and egg at him. 

 

*

 

He’s loading his things into his car the next afternoon, and Segs is standing nearby while he finishes. He’s already said goodbye to Freddy and Brownie, who went back to bed, dark circles under his eyes and a limp betraying him, so it’s just the two of them.

“I’m glad to see you guys got your shit worked out, eh?” Jesse says, leaning against the car. Segs nods and smiles; pleased and small.

“I am too. He makes me really happy,” he says, shrugging a little. Jesse pulls him into a hug, feeling like if he doesn’t do something he’s going to say something _stupid_ , and he needs to leave with as much moral superiority over them and milk it for as long as he can.

“That’s good, bud. I’m really happy for you two. Just uh — no more fucking in the kitchen, okay? It’s nasty. And no public fucks either. Splinters in your ass are super fucking uncomfortable to get out, take it from me.” He grins as Segs dissolves into giggles; immature fucker.

He climbs into his truck and waits for Segs’ roller door to come down, Segs leaning against his window while it does. “See you at Biosteel, okay? And — thank you, really...” he trails off, grabbing Jesse’s wrist for a second and squeezing. Jesse nods and slips his sunglasses on.

“No problems, man. I’ll text you. Good luck with the playoffs."

He pulls out and heads towards the nearest main road, the sun beating down through his sunroof and the warm breeze whipping around the car. 

It’s gonna be a good summer.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not use NSYNC as the music to write this to, I did not buy all their albums off iTunes, and I am not trying to find my copy of their Madison Square Gardens concert in a horribad fit of nostalgia.


End file.
